What We Say and Do
by Incongruous Obscenity
Summary: At some point, things of love always lead to the same place. Beacon burned to the ground, Grimm assaulted and waged bloody conflict, and villains played out their machinations. Life happened, and so too did adventure. But two women learned a truth about themselves through all this. In that truth they found each other, and this is their revelation.


What We Say and Do

By the Incongruous Obscenity

But first, the pledge:

I am the Incongruous Obscenity of a pious man. I will write of all love insomuch as I see, as the stories come to me, and as my abilities allow. I will spare no detail nor heed any censor. I will kow to no standard of morality or beauty, save for what I believe is beautiful and what is intrinsically true. I will spare thought for the feelings of none. I will apologize for nothing in my works.

- _ **Obscene Bias**_

I

Sometimes it comes down to a right moment, a soft truth, or a simple mistake. Sometimes it comes down to nothing but chance and fate, those ever-present, impious jesters that sit on the shoulders of each and every one of us. And sometimes, it just comes down to simple blind luck.

Ruby Rose stood on one end of a mighty but featureless veranda, her silver eyes turned up to a sky pouring rain. It was dark save for a faint sliver of moonlight that poked through the storm clouds. Beneath her feet she could feel the cold, hard concrete of the veranda. It stung her bare flesh with the cold of winter and rain, but she cared little and less.

Her face was afire, you see, and that heat purged all other perception save the ramblings of her mind.

Across from her, leaning against the featureless gray railing that encircled the veranda, another woman stood. Her silver-white hair flitted on an unfelt, cold breeze, picking up flecks of the rain and seeming to color them with that same ephemeral property of her hair. Her own eyes, blue and cold as ice, were not turned to the dark, raining heavens but to the woman across from her, whose every fleshly inch was in view by the moonlight.

Weiss Schnee, heiress of the famed Schnee Family, was ensorcelled by the sight. Ivory curves of flesh lit with the soft silver of the moon, streaking in a thin beam that looked not to have the power to pierce the dark yet managed all the same. Coal-black hair with tips stained a deep, rose-red crimson, dripping specks of silver rain as it too was tousled by the same unfelt, cold, playful breeze. Lips quivering with unspoken words, knees shaking with spotty conviction, arms wrapped sensuously and shyly around ample buds of breasts.

Somewhere off in the sleeping Kingdom of Vale—for it was far past midnight—a car backfired, likely powered with impure dust surely not of Schnee manufacture. Weiss watched as Ruby, barely keeping herself together in the present scene, all but jumped from her goosepimpled flesh. The heiress drew closer at the sight, wrapped her arms about Ruby carefully and supported her from falling.

"You dolt," she whispered.

She wanted to say more, but could not. For at that mere utterance, Ruby looked up into the heiress's bright, icy eyes. The look she gave was of bewildered, unhindered, unflinching trust that spoke more than any poet—living or dead—could ever have managed. Looking at them, Weiss could not discern whether the wet glisten on those silver jewels was of rain or tears.

Of course, it did not matter for it set her heart aflame all the same.

"It's cold out here," Weiss managed, finding her voice amid the temptation in her heart. "Let's go back inside. We'll catch our deaths in this weather."

Ruby leaned against her, stood on shaking legs and followed her in. They crossed through a pair of French doors masquerading as windows, easily seven feet tall and encased in white iron. Once in, the heiress was the first to act on what both were surely feeling.

How long had it been now? Since they met at Beacon and became unwitting friends? Since they took down hordes of Grimm in ruined cities, faced man and faunus alike under shared consequence? Since they had parted, ripped apart by the cruelty of that impious fate, and reunited again?

Things that burn hot can never truly burn out. They become embers ere long, and shortly thereafter, if left untended, fade into cinders. But they do not burn out, for even cinder may be rekindled by _Trueflame_. And in that truth of fire—what we hold in our hearts, at our deepest and most longing—we oft act on what it is we will not say.

She did not shut the French doors, the heiress Schnee, but instead supported her bare partner over to a large, round bed. She helped her lie down on the cotton sheets, staining them with the impure rain of the city, and moved immediately to crawl beside her. And though she too was bare as the day she left her mother's womb, Weiss felt no anxiety or vacillation; nay, for she knew what she wanted and why.

Looking deep into Ruby's silver eyes, quivering with tears or rain or fear (or perhaps all), she knew the woman to want the same.

II

Surprisingly, Ruby made the first move.

Whilst Weiss stared unmoving at her silver eyes, she took the impetus and closed in. With the force of a feather and the speed of a viper, Ruby met her lips to Weiss's, pressing soft and unsure their flesh together. Then, moving further, she snaked an arm about her love's hips and pulled their waists to meet, hugging the other about her ribs. In but a moment they were pressed fully together, speaking in the language of only the truest lovers with lip and breath.

The heiress hesitated, off guard, but soon sank into it as well. She closed her icy eyes and pressed in turn. She inhaled deeply the soft, lilac scent of her partner (partner?) and wrapped her own arms about Ruby's shoulders, squeezing faintly. Somewhere in her a string snapped, unhinging two great gates that had long been her _morality_ —as she thought of them—and all bets were loosed.

No going back, no giving up.

"Hey," whispered Ruby, briefly separating their kiss. "Can I ask you something?"

"Now, of all times?" answered Weiss, huffing and panting.

"Now or never."

Weiss twisted about a moment, putting a few inches of space between them. When the pert, hardened summits of her breasts felt the cold air—parted from Ruby's warmth—a strong shiver ran up her spine. Ruby felt this, the vixen, and hugged Weiss close again, shutting the tiny gap between their feverishly warm bodies.

"Spit it out," said Weiss.

Ruby fidgeted only a moment before asking, "Do you love me?"

Weiss looked straight into her silver eyes, bewildered and upturned by the question. Perhaps not the substance of it but certainly the timing. And in that bewilderment, her tongue grew fat and her throat dry, her words fled.

So, the silver-eyed vixen drew her love close and pressed their lips together again. She pushed the weight of herself against the heiress's chest, savoring every little shudder and shiver. She let the hand around Weiss's hips drift down, running gently over her exposed buttock and eliciting even more of those delicious shudders and shivers. Then, as a final jibe, she squeezed with some modicum of force, swift but sure.

Weiss Schnee convulsed wildly, jumped hard and cried out, " _Yes, damn it!_ "

"What was that?" Ruby taunted, their kiss separated for the moment.

With a look of indignation and surely no small embarrassment, Weiss leveled her icy gaze on Ruby's silver. Her nose and cheeks were flushed such a fine shade of sinful red, contrasted divinely against her alabaster flesh. Her lips quavered softly and a bit of drool oozed from the left corner of her mouth.

"I _said_ ," began the heiress, "of course I love you."

To accentuate this truth of her heart, Weiss closed her arms about Ruby's shoulders and pressed their bodies together as much so as she could. If any space had been between them at all, it was gone with that simple motion.

"Ruby Rose," said Weiss, "I won't be apart from you. Not again. _Never again_ …"

Images of that awful night flooded Ruby's mind. The assault on Beacon. The endless hordes of Grimm. Her fellow classmates that did not survive the battle ( _slaughter_ ) waged by the villainous forces set against them. Pyrrha, the poor soul, impaled and incinerated atop the ruined tower…

"Hold me, please."

Without awaiting a response, Ruby buried her eyes against the heiress's collar. She took a deep breath—lungs filling with the scent of gooseberries—and released in a single, soft sob. Weiss answered in turn by patting her partner's ( _lover's?_ ) head, softly stroking her coal-black locks. She ran her thin, cold fingers through those tresses, coiling them and tugging barely enough to be felt.

"Hey," she said, coaxing the silver-eyed vixen to lean her head back. When their eyes met, she repeated herself, saying, " _Never again…_ "

Perhaps it would not be a promise easily kept. Indeed, it might even one day lead to one or both of their ends. And though she knew the wise saying not to make a girl a promise you know you cannot keep, Weiss Schnee believed with every fiber of her being that she could keep that promise. For the woman shaking softly in her arms, bare flesh heated and pressed to her at every point possible, Weiss felt she could keep _any_ promise.

 _Amen._

III

The room was large enough for two but intended for only one. It was a simple hotel room made for passing hunters and huntresses after all, though perhaps a tad more luxuriant than necessary. The walls were a faintly beautiful depiction of flowery patterns, papered on simple drywall backing and colored an almost-sepia tone. In some places it peeled a bit, but these were hidden mostly in corners and such. As for the furnishings, those were nothing to write home about, but neither were they anything to complain over. Comfy and pleasing enough to the eye, the few chairs and single coffee table did their jobs well.

About the room were some few paintings on three of the four walls. None were particularly gorgeous or rare, not even recreations of such. They did add a certain ambience of comfort however, especially the image of two cherubs sitting on separate clouds, leaning over a short distance and risking a fall to meet in a simple, innocent kiss. These little angels seemed only to notice one another.

As did the two women—huntresses, partners in slaying, in friendship, in love—now coiled up hopelessly in both each other and the soft cotton covers. Outside the weather worsened; the rain turned sideways and began to spray a good three feet into the room, wetting the carpet almost to the bed. Neither Weiss nor Ruby noted it.

Instead, kissing as mad and ensorcelled daemons, they saw only each other. Felt only the heat of the one pressed to them, coiled upon them. Smelt only the scent of the one held in their arms. Tasted only the flesh of the other's lips, the velvety texture of each other's tongues. Heard only the other's maddened heartbeat and ragged breathing.

The entire gods-damned world could be falling apart at that moment and they would not have sensed it. The hotel room made for passing hunters and huntresses—just a bit more luxuriant than necessary—could have been afire and they would not have felt it until it was too late. Grimm could be storming the streets outside, reveling in their ferocity and bloodshed, and neither huntress could have found it in themselves to leave the present predicament.

"I love you," Ruby would whisper on occasion, when she found herself free enough to do so.

" _I love you too,_ " Weiss would answer in turn, when her lips were free to pass the words.

Hands wandered over sensitive flesh; and yea, all of it was as sensitive as the most guarded of secrets a woman has. Each and every last nerve within them was turned to eleven, its reception kicked to maximum burden. When a hand found its way to a particularly delicate spot—a breast or summit thereof, a buttock, the nape of the neck, just under the shoulders, just above the belly, just upon the hips—the woman affected jolted and chirped. When that hand would squeeze or gently molest, the chirp would become a bitten scream and an unstoppable moan.

Both could feel it. Both could sense the coming calamity that was beautifully fulfilling and terribly frightening. It burned wonderfully at the meet of their thighs, almost in unison and fully out of control. It wetted them in a manner that, under other circumstances, would surely have been quite humiliating. Here though, enshrined in the arms of one another, coiled as serpents about each other, it was naught but freeing.

It was truth, yes, and inarguable also.

IV

Maybe they spent an hour like this, experiencing every inch of each other with hand and lip. Running palms along burning-hot lengths of sensitive flesh. Kissing every point imaginable but the most guarded of secrets. Coming close together and embracing, squeezing, sighing and moaning into the other's ear. Whispering sweet bits of quickly incomprehensible nothing.

Yes, maybe an hour. Or maybe not.

They lost track of time while the Kingdom of Vale slept beyond the open veranda doors, rained upon torrentially by unapologetic storm clouds. There was only this moment to think upon, to act upon, to _live within_.

And so, they did, losing track of time and place and thought aside from each other.

This time however, Weiss Schnee took the impetus and moved to break the little cycle both had fallen into. She sat up suddenly and looked down on the woman below her, now a disheveled and panting mess. And she took her time too, drinking in the sight. Letting her eyes crawl over every curve and line, each sweating inch of bare flesh.

Then, she leaned down and placed a hand over Ruby's left breast. She squeezed hard, yet not too much so, and felt the racing heart beneath, relished the moan of rapture that escaped Ruby's lips. Weiss then moved to straddle her lover (partner?), setting her heated, pulsating core just upon the bottom of Ruby's stomach. Situated adequately, the heiress leaned down and gave one more fleeting peck of a kiss.

Ruby's mind went fully blank. She felt her eyes slip shut and volition leave her muscles, replaced with the inherent instinct of such transcendent acts. As the heiress gave the fleeting peck of a kiss, she found herself rising after her retreating lips, wanting more of the contact. Only to be pushed down in return, however.

"Mm-mm," hummed the heiress, her eyes having now adopted a vacant, lascivious stare. "My turn. You just relax…"

One might wonder if the silver-eyed vixen heard her icy-eyed lover. One would sadly be disappointed, having no answer.

Whether she truly heard or not, Ruby relented to the soft hand pressing her back down to the cotton covers. When she lay fully flat, that hand began to wander further down, tracing a gentle swathe of heat over her now-ticklish belly. Each passing moment of this brought another moan from her shivering lips, another pulse of heat between her hips, and another shake to her entire frame.

Weiss watched this and smiled. Nay, she _grinned_ from ear to ear. The sight was divine.

Still further the heiress let her hand drift, squeezing gently Ruby's left breast with the other. She could feel the racing heart beneath and savored every moment of it. And when her hand came down as far as she dared—to a place covered in soft, coal-black down—the heiress stopped, suddenly afraid. Why, she could not fathom, could not understand.

Looking into Ruby's silver eyes, her senses returning somewhat, Weiss asked, "Are you sure?"

Her lover only grinned sweetly, softly, and nodded once.

Affirmed and all but asked, Weiss traveled her hand the final few inches.

Immediately she could feel heat unlike anything she thought the body capable of. Even in the sparse exploration of her own body, no such thing had the heiress felt. After the heat came that soft down, like something spun on the loom of an angel. Before exploring further, she ran her fingers through it a few times, coiling and tenderly tugging the angelic down.

All the while, Ruby watched her lover perched atop her and could not help but smile. There were moans and groans too, of course, but her cheeks could not seem to help themselves but to curve upwards, squinting her eyes and wrinkling the top of her nose. Seizing the chance, she decided to do a bit of her own exploring. She inched her hands slowly to the heiress's knees, then began to climb from there. Felt the soft contours and heat of her thighs, rubbing slow and gentle back and forth for a time.

Weiss leaned her head back and cried out to the ceiling. Once she recovered herself from the tender assault, the heiress then curved her fingers and delved into the wondrous secret covered in coal-black down.

Ruby bit her lip to refrain from a loud, piercing scream that would surely have brought concerned individuals to investigate. Her eyes nearly rolled back in her head and she squeezed her thighs together, instinctively, against the heiress's invasion. It did no good. Weiss only smiled—somewhat devilishly—and pushed further, coiling her fingers to press and feel and learn. Overwhelmed, Ruby's lips parted and she gave a silent, shuddering wheeze of a moan. She looked up into the icy eyes looking down on her.

And again, found herself smiling despite her gaping jaw.

V

Weiss was in control of the situation. Not in any particularly domineering manner, but in the simple fact of the matter. She straddled her lover below the belly and just above the crotch, errantly squeezing her left breast as she explored the precious flower guarded by quivering thighs.

But this did not last. For you see, one must note that, in moments of truest, uninhibited emotion, none make decisions based on any sort of logic. Ruby was no exception.

Assaulted from within and without by both powerful sensation and terrifying emotion, the silver-eyed vixen could hold herself back no better than she could split the sea. With Weiss's fingers exploring her most treasured secret, and her own breath hitching at nearly every movement, Ruby was indeed surprised to find herself moving all of a sudden. Or would have been, had she been capable of thought.

The woman bolted upright in a flash, throwing Weiss onto her back and separating the exploring digits from her. Then, with swiftness only she could muster, Ruby fell upon the Schnee. Hands pressing the covers on either side of Weiss's head, she loomed over her, eyes wild and mouth drooling just a tad.

"Take me," Weiss said, not fully aware of herself.

Ruby obliged.

VI

Their lips met again, clashing as though at war. Their hands roamed all about one another. Fingers pressed and nails scratched, their noses ripping huffs of breath at erratic intervals. When Ruby moved her right hand to Weiss's left breast—feeling her heartbeat race as though it might give out any moment—the heiress arched her back and bucked into her lover's grip.

On only instinct, Weiss moved her own hands to her lover's buttocks, squeezing hard and rubbing vigorously. She received a loud moan of approval directly into her mouth, and as such pressed the embrace of their lips all the more harshly. It was almost becoming injurious; unbeknownst, both women in fact had a few small cuts on their inner lips by this point. Yet, neither cared and only continued their mutual efforts.

Weiss ran her hands down so far as she could reach, stroking the heated length of thighs beneath. Ruby squeezed with her right hand and began to trace circles across her lover's belly with her left fingers. The heiress moaned approvingly into her mouth, speared her tongue and began to explore. Spurred by this, Ruby then moved to straddle Weiss's left leg, pressing her knee against the heiress's own treasured secret.

By all the heavens, it was so very warm against her. And so very drenched, dowsing her knee almost upon contact. Ruby could not help herself but to pull back in a bit of surprise, making space and ending the kiss so she could stare into the heiress's eyes.

"That much?" she asked.

Weiss only tilted her head in response, neither capable of understanding nor possessing the knowledge to answer had she been aware and able.

Ah, but Ruby knew. For she had done ample exploration of herself in the past, had studied up on the subject and learned of her body extensively. She knew indeed what such a response meant. To this knowing, she once more smiled—wide and loving and playful.

"Ok," she said before leaning in again, reengaging the kiss and teasing the heiress's body with her hands and fingers.

Weiss melted into this renewed onslaught. She pressed her hips downward with each gentle push from Ruby's knee. She arched her back to press her breast as close as possible to her lover's hand. She tensed her abs in response to each circle traced by the silver-eyed vixen's fingers. Every motion was rapture, each touch ambrosia.

But it was not enough; she had to have more.

The huntress of silver-most eyes began to knead with furor, strengthening her pressure and hastening her pace. With both her knee and her occupied right hand. She released herself from the kiss and moved her mouth to the heiress's neck instead, clamping down hard enough to startle but not injure. Marks would be left but naught else.

Beneath this onslaught, Weiss moaned to each and every action. At one point, she felt her heart must give in. It did not, but surely felt so. Quickly her flesh began to run numb save for the sensitive places and the assaulted points. The cold from outside—piggybacking on the rain billowing through the open veranda door—stung at her pale flesh, but went unnoticed against Ruby's attack.

"More," the heiress moaned to the ceiling, lost in herself, to herself. "More! _Please…_ "

Of course, her lover obliged. Hastened her pace yet again. Strengthened her pressures and grips. Began to rub their bodies together wherever she could make the contact. Nibbled with her teeth and teased the heiress's neck with heated, wanting breath from her nose. Savored and enshrined her senses within what felt like a shared sensation of the mind, of the heart, _of the soul_.

' _Never trust a Schnee,'_ she recalled her uncle having once told her. How glad she was she had not listened.

Yet, the moment was nearing its end. Perhaps two hours in, perhaps three or more. Or not, for neither could tell. Ruby did know, however, that the zenith was approaching, the apex encroaching, the acme nearing to. She could feel Weiss's heart speeding and slowing at erratic intervals, hear her breath hitching in an odd pattern. Most of all, she could feel the heat and dampness upon her knee growing in intensity, in presence, and in sheer volume.

'Twas the point of _Hallelujah_ oncoming, can't you see?

Yes, Ruby could see. She could tell. Could understand and distinguish.

Weiss continued to moan and attempt to speak. Her words of want devolved into gibberish though, leaving her to sound like little more than a madwoman. She was in that moment, of course. And she began to feel a pressure building in her—below the belly, above her hips, angrily pulsing to each motion of Ruby's knee—that frightened her sorely. At the same time, it called to her sweetly. Sang to her of true rapture and release into an indescribable freedom.

Then, it came, that moment of absolution. From many things, yea, but most of all from her inner self.

Ruby's motions became entirely erratic and unpredictable. Her knee pressed and rubbed, hard but not injurious. Her hands felt all over the heiress's marble-white flesh, leaving trails of heat and divine pleasure in their wake. She released the grip of her teeth and moved to the other side of Weiss's neck, clamping down with just as much drive and force.

In response, Weiss ceased all exploration with her own hands and wrapped her arms about Ruby. She tried to say something—anything at all, her mind sadly empty—but managed only a funky half-scream half-groan. Each muscle in her tensed at once, the pressure ( _promise of absolution_ ) below her belly intensified, and her heart gave four more maddened thumps. Then at last, she gripped with all the might her thighs could surrender and started to convulse.

Ruby felt a torrent greet her knee where it met to the heiress's thigh. She released her teeth and looked upon the quivering, babbling, sweating Schnee beneath her…

 _And smiled_.


End file.
